The bedroom door was open, and Tip's father heard. By and by, when his
cough was quieter, he called, "Kitty!" and the little girl went in to
him. "Is the jacket fixed, Kitty?"
"Yes."
"Does it look nice?"
"Some."
"Would you like to find a collar for Tip to wear?"
"Well enough," said Kitty wonderingly.
"Well, now, I've got two or three that I don't wear any more, and never
shall, I guess" (this last spoken sadly); "s'pose you take one of
'em--they're in that square box under the table--and see if you can't sew
it on the jacket, and make it look like what the other boys wear? Now,
you try what you can do, just to see what Tip will say."
Kitty went slowly over to the box. This was new work for her, but her
father was very pale to-day, and those sadly-spoken words, "and never
shall, I guess," had quieted her; so she made no answer, but drew out one
of the collars. It looked nice and white, and shone, too. Mrs. Lewis had
done it up late one night, with tears in her eyes, because she could not
hope that it would be worn again.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119